For The CBCP Monitor, by Teresa R. Tunay, OCDS
In March 2015, Pope Francis
emerged as “the most trustworthy pope” in a Social Weather Stations (SWS)
survey. Results showed that 87
percent of Filipinos have “much trust” in Pope Francis, earning for the pontiff
“the highest public trust rating in the history of SWS surveys, surpassing the
72 percent of Pope John Paul II logged in 1995.” And for some obscure purpose, the report had to mention
“Pope Benedict’s net trust rating was at 58 percent in May 2005”.
It smacks of a mundane
competition. The survey gives the
impression that it was pitting one pope against another in
trustworthiness. Casually
comparing popes as though they were Hollywood celebrities or ordinary world
leaders reveals a lack of understanding of the Catholic religion, just as
speculating on papal elections reveals ignorance of the Holy Spirit’s
participation in the affairs of men.
Let’s just hope people are discerning enough to see that there was no
“selfie” yet in 1995, no Facebook, Twitter or Instagram that made a
“journalist” of every social media enthusiast—and incidentally made news and
photos of Pope Francis reach farther and faster than at the time of Pope John
Paul II’s visit. Besides, John
Paul II came for World Youth Day, while Francis came to commiserate with
Yolanda victims—different occasions evoke different reactions. As for Benedict XVI—why, he had just
buried John Paul II when he got the 58 “trust rating”! Would we let a survey label a beloved
pope as “third placer” of the three?
Survey or no survey, popes
deserve a 100 percent “trust rating”.
Successors of Peter are worthy of our trust. I am convinced that the Holy Spirit always sends a pontiff
who is perfectly suited for our time and need, thus whoever steps up to occupy
the shoes of St. Peter is there for a reason God alone knows. And we, as believers and avowed
followers of Jesus Christ, would do best by being open to God’s plan for us, in
the same way He was obedient to the Father’s will. (Do I hear hooting and tooting from the bleachers,
“Hey what about the wicked popes—murderers, war freaks, adulterers, thieves,
and power trippers?” Yes, my
dears, but that’s another story, okay?)
Preoccupied with other
concerns and nursing a budding agnosticism when Pope Paul VI came to the Philippines
in 1970, I couldn’t care less. He
came and went—it meant nothing to me.
But after an inexplicable about-face (that in itself would take volumes
to capture and still not make sense to the uninitiated), I got interested in
John Paul II. As things unfolded,
I was to cover his visit to the country in 1981, seeing him for the first time
at Mass in the Manila cathedral; be touched and blessed by him face to face in
1987 at the canonization rites for St. Lorenzo Ruiz in Rome; be enriched by
attending three World Youth Day events with him (Philippines, France, Canada);
rejoice in his presence again in the Vatican at the beatification rites for
Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta; and finally, at St. Peter’s Basilica in
April 2005, gratefully kneel close to his mortal remains and weep bittersweet
tears at his funeral.
I did not have the good
fortune of meeting Pope Benedict XVI up close and personal, but I’m certain now
that it wasn’t necessary. As he presided at John Paul II’s funeral Mass, I
listened intently to his homily, unaware that he would soon become pope, and I
found his words to be a blessing, like rain upon parched earth. His resignation—a single, supreme act of humility and
surrender—was enough for me to be affirmed in my faith, convinced that “here,
we have another living saint”.
During Pope Francis’ visit
last January, media duties put me at the forefront of developments, following
the pope from the moment he arrived to the minute he waved goodbye from his
plane. If I wasn’t actually covering
him on site, I was following him on tv, in social media, over the radio, in
print, hanging on to his every word, noting his every gesture—then duty turned
into privilege; it didn’t feel like work to me, it felt more like an unceasing
prayer.
On hindsight, it comes as no
surprise then that Pope Francis came out as “most trustworthy pope” in the
survey—albeit surveys usually ask the opinion of just a little over a thousand
people. He came on as a likable,
accessible, relatable pope—everything that global media had taught us about him
prior to his visit. Choosing
“mercy and compassion” as the theme of his visit, he became a flesh-and-blood
reminder of humanity’s need for kindness, empathy, understanding.
It was his trip to Tacloban,
however, that formed the nucleus of his 4-day visit. When back in the Nunciature from Tacloban he said to
Cardinal Tagle, “This visit is for me”, he bared his soul in five little
words. Allow me to venture a guess
into the sentiment behind this enigmatic papal comment.
For his homily in Tacloban,
he asked permission to speak in his mother tongue, Spanish, to better express
himself. The first thing he said
was “When in Rome I saw the damage caused by the typhoon (Yolanda), I said to
myself that I must come here.” He
said he had felt the suffering of the people and wanted to be with them.
“This visit is for me.” Pope Francis had wanted to be with the
suffering but did he plan on becoming one of them? Tropical storm Amang was coming to Tacloban that day. Was it
sheer coincidence that “Amang” is the Pilipino word for “Father”? Could the Father have wanted something
else for Pope Francis in Tacloban?
Amang would frustrate human plans and the pope’s desires on that
day. Could it be that instead of
somebody big coming to bring hope and healing to the victims, the Father had
wanted Francis to come and experience being a victim himself?
Amang’s slanting rain and
strong winds welcomed Pope Francis at the airport, blowing away a unique symbol
of his papacy, his white skull cap.
(Welcome, son, you don’t need that
cap here.) He wore a cheap
yellow raincoat like that the two million other people wore. (You’re
one of them). He said Mass
using a small makeshift altar on the dry side of the stage as the beautiful
immobile main altar was exposed to rain. (A humble altar
does not diminish My Sacrifice.)
The Argentine pope had never experienced a typhoon all his life, but
here, as Francis celebrated Mass, he was exposed to the elements, his hair
windblown, like that of the life-sized figure on the cross. (Unite
yourself with the homeless naked one on the cross). And because the storm was threatening
to hit land by 3 pm, the pilot had urged the entourage to leave Tacloban by one
o’clock, or risk getting stranded. This curtailed the pope’s long-awaited
encounters—the lunch with calamity survivors and a meeting with the religious
and clergy of Palo. Even the
blessing of the Pope Francis Center for the Poor had to done from his car which
merely breezed by the Center’s entrance.
His whole Tacloban visit was
cut short by four hours. It was
painful enough that Pope Francis was denied the consolation of spending more
time with the poor he had come for; back in Manila he was to hear of the freak
accident that took the life of a young volunteer after the Tacloban Mass. The helplessness the disaster victims
had experienced before, Pope Francis went through this time. He was powerless before an inclement weather,
and heartbroken by untimely separation from his loved ones—the poor. Here he was, trying to be a shepherd
who smells of the sheep, but he must soon go. The brief visit was the pilot’s call, not the pope’s; popes
can invoke the name of Jesus, but only Jesus can calm a storm.
So, what makes people trust
a pope? After 34 years of virtual
acquaintance with three popes I still can’t say what. Only this I know: in faith I trust the pope, and that faith
is justified when all that he is proves that Jesus is alive. Really, words are not enough. And that’s the truth.
